Back on the Path
by aimtbj
Summary: Destiny is written. On the rare occasion that it is interupted, Fate will always intervine, but there are multiple ways to the same destination. Post Homecoming.
1. Prologue

Welcome to my first ongoing fic! I hope you all can find room in your hearts for another post-homecoming story. But I've re-watched it so many times, and finally, I decided to take a crack at it. What an awesome episode. Please feel free to enjoy it (!) and also keep in mind this is just the prologue. Action will come soon. I promise.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's all Disney's!

**Prologue**

_"—the destruction of all Huntsclan!" _

One girl's wish altered the world drastically, on both seen and unseen levels. It was a mighty sacrifice made by one wise beyond her years, and the depths of that sacrifice was not diminished in the least even though she, in the end, was spared from death. A lifetime of living two contrasting lives, both shrouded in lies, finally reaped her a just reward. Afterall, she may now be living a false reality, one that was not destined to ever take place, but at least she was alive. Alive and blissfully unaware of all the pain she had—or was supposed to have—endured.

Of course, a little bit of magic can always change how and what she sees and lives.

But even though she committed such a perfect and saint-like act, it wasn't without its flaws. She could've been much more specific for one thing. Had the Huntsman succeeded in _his_ wish to destroy all magical creatures, he would've been slightly disappointed (and greatly outraged) to eventually find that creatures of magic were still being born into this world.

It's amazing how the word "permanent" could've made a huge difference.

The mark of the Huntsclan was destined to appear for all time. In a way, they created a yin-yang for the world, both magical and mortal. Good and evil was always meant to dwell on earth together, for one could not exist without the other. And as for the mark of the Huntslcan itself, well, that is another confusing little irony. For that little mark is actually a byproduct of magic! Sort of. Dragons who knew this secret got a good chuckle in each time during battle, before swiftly setting forth to fight. Birthmarks can appear randomly among people, that's a given, but when people sharing a common mark claim that they share a common destiny…well, that pretty much falls under the "magical mark" category. Half magic, half destiny.

Thankfully, that's the extent of otherworldly powers existing naturally within the evil group. Every other facet was completely up to the members. They had to fulfill their destiny, but how they got there was completely undetermined. Many find there are multiple paths to the same destination.

So as sculptors at the Island of Draco tried to figure out how to convert the statue of the Huntsman to mark the clan's defeat, the makings and remaking of sworn enemies were already working.

Hatred would rekindle, wars would begin again, blood would spill, and this time, none of it can be stopped by a single wish.


	2. In the Lair

Here begins Chapter 1 of this little fic of mine! Thank you so much to the six of you who reviewed: it made my heart sing for joy! I hope everyone enjoys these next few chapters as I get ready for the action!  Here goes!

Disclaimer: I don't even own ADJL on DVD.

**In the Lair **

I.

It had been three months since a spell tore through the streets of New York and cascaded through to different parts of the globe. It had been three months since every member of the Huntsclan vanished from the earth. It had been three months…and 88 and 89 hadn't done a darn thing!

"Dude," 88 began, a familiar whine in his voice. "We shouldn't have quite weed-slaying."

89 groaned. "It wasn't my idea! We were doin great until that stupid guy with the weed whacker came in!"

"Hey, maybe we could—"

"No. No tomato slaying."

88 deflated. "Fine! But we gotta do something more than hang around here all the time! We're wasting our master fighting skills! Well, mine anyway."

"Ha! You couldn't Huntskick your way out of a paper bag!"

"Oh, you done it now man. I'm gonna…"

Their bickering continued to echo through the half-destroyed halls of the Huntsclan Academy. The building itself had been spared from the onslaught, but it seemed that the weaponry had vanished. But, since neither boy had any home to go to, they pretty much figured an abandoned lair would suit them nicely.

"Yeah, man! Check out the parties we could throw! Whoo hoo!"

They hadn't gotten around to any madcap parties yet, but they were still living large in the deserted space. Jumping on beds, having food fights, sitting in the Huntman's favorite chair while trying on his robes (their favorite pastime)…yup, things were great!

"Ouch! That ceiling shouldn't be that low!"

"We'll remodel. No one can stop us! Hahaha!"

Yeah, they were definitely enjoying the freedom. But at the end of the day, after they were done gloating and laughing and fighting, they were bored. Plain and simple, they were bored. This is what ultimately led to…

"Hey, Dude," 88 sat up and nudged his friend. "You know what we haven't done yet?"

"Gone rooting in the girls' dormitory?"

"No. Well, yeah, and we still gotta do that, but we haven't gone into the Hunstmasters' Quarters."

89 paled. "What?! They'd totally kill us!"

88 rapped on his dense buddy's head. "Hello? Big vortex? Empty academy?"

He chuckled. "Oh, yeah. Then let's go!"

The two wanna-bees ambled through the halls, toughing it up in front of one another, until they finally came to the forbidden zone. They both snickered.

"Ooh, look where we are, 88!" 89 crowed. "We're about to enter the Huntsmaster's room! Not just one of the masters, but _the_ Hunstmaster!"

"You got that right!" They strolled through, trying to appear casual, but they were kids in a candy story. 89 squealed. "88, look! The Hunstmaster read books!"

88 walked to the giant bookcase. "_Utter Annihilation, Leading by Example, 101 Uses for Dragon Scales…"_ He continued picking through the various titles, until one caught his eye. "_Dragon Slaying for Dummies_? No way! Check it out: the Huntsman used _Dragon Slaying for Dummies!"_ He plucked it from its spot on the shelf, intending to poke fun of his deceased master, but he was interrupted.

The shelf receded into the wall slightly before sliding to the right. 89's eyes went wide. "You broke it!"

The boys wandered in closer. This had clearly been some sort of weapon storage, obvious even without the presence of said weapons.

"I wonder what this space was for." 89 said. 88 shrugged.

"I dunno." He then bent down, having just seen a few discarded papers on the ground. "Whoa, what are these?"

"Oooh, let me see!"

"Back off, man! I saw them first!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did—" RIIIIIP!

"Aw, great!" 88 grumbled. "Just when I was getting to the good part!"

"Perfect." 89 slouched against the wall, arms sullenly across his chest. After a moment, he glanced at his companion. "So what were we fighting over?"

88 thrust the torn papers in 89's face. "Plans! These are designs for all that way cool, almost-as-awesome-as-I-am Huntsweaponry!"

"No way! We could use those!" 88 just laughed.

"Yeah, for what? The second we start hunting we'll be sucked away."

89 cocked an eyebrow, though the gesture went unseen thanks to his mask. "I dunno about that. The vortex left forever ago, so we should be good. Besides, everyone else had that mark thingy. We don't, we just joined cuz we wanted to."

"Speak for yourself, doofus! I got my mark right here!" He proudly hefted his knee forward.

"Um, that's a bruise."

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

II.

Hours later, after the two bumbling boys finally determined that the mark on 88's knee was, in fact, a bruise, they decided to give some serious thought to resuming the hunt.

"I mean, we already know who the Dragon is and all that," 88 pondered. "So it's not like it'll be that hard to track him."

"Yeah, and after seeing him in his human form, I ain't afraid of him!" He shook with laughter. "I mean, only a moron would be scared of that guy! No offense, 88."

"I ain't afraid of that skinny little twerp! No offense, 89."

He just appeared confused. "Was that an insult?"

88 clapped his hands together. "Alright! Let's get started. We have to build us some dragon-slaying gear, assemble a clan, and then storm the dragon's lair! This will be awesome! Not to mention, we'll be the Masters!"

Both boys were way excited over that little aspect and they spent the next several minutes jumping up and down in glee. Once their triumph was over, 88 glanced at his partner in crime, and with a sheepish smile, asked, "So, do you think we can finally put some clothes over our boxers now?"


	3. Getting Back to the NittyGritty

I'm back! You guys might not wanna hear this, but writer's block is threatening to choke me to death! Not to worry though: it's either write the story or do homework. 

Anyway, thank you so very much to all the reviewers, who definitely surprised me with their reception of the story! I'm glad you like it! And to all the other readers, I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Okay then, here's Chapter Two of _Back on the Path. _Man, that's cool to say.

Edited to add the little day-change as mentioned in the next chapter.

Disclaimer: I don't own AmDrag or any of the characters. That's Disney's game!

**Getting Back to the Nitty-Gritty**

"Ha! Is that the best you got, gruesome? You're gonna have to work harder to bring the AmDrag down! I am all bad, but all good!"

Jake barrel-rolled to avoid the hit, taunting all the way. It was just another night in Central Park, trying to dissuade various baddies from wreaking havoc on the magical world. His lithe dragon form now twisted through the air, his laughter following. "I thought you'd be as strong as your smell, but I guess only the AmDrag has that type of strength!" He faltered a bit and then added. "Not that I smell. I'm only as strong as you smell, and AHHH!"

His opponent, who happened to be a 12-foot, fang-bearing, muscle bound ogre, finally caught Jake by the snout ("Finally! Shut up!"), and flung him into the nearest garbage can. It was, of course, loaded with fish.

"Ug! Why does this always happen?"

His ogre friend charged up next to him. "Now who smell?" He pulled one thick arm back in preparation to knock the humor right out of the dragon, but he was stopped short by the sight of his pants on fire.

"Raaa!" He screamed as he scampered off shelter from the blazing barrage. "My buns burn!" Lao Shi emerged from the shadows, shaking his head. "Jake, we must speak." Jake's head lowered to his chest as he steeled himself for another lecture. There had been many lately.

"Young one," the elder sighed. "Tell me what happened in battle."

Jake cocked his head slightly. This was a new tactic. "Well, I went out to save a brownie that was stuck in a tree, and then King of the Stink Bomb back there came out of nowhere, yelling something about dragon stew and brownie-brownies for dessert!"

Gramps shook his head. "Yes Jake, I saw the battle. I mean, what is it that went through your head at the time?"

"How about, 'Man, I hope he doesn't slime all over me'?" Jake flashed his usual grin, but the disappointment in his grandpa's eyes cut through his humor.

"You are a very headstrong individual, Jake. I've always known that. But your training has curved that into a more positive energy; you've become more determined, more focused." It's not easy for a man as small as Lao Shi to appear large and intimidating (at least not in human form), but he was doing a great job of it right then. "But it seems you have…" he searched for the proper word.

"Backslid into badness? Careened into cockiness? Stepped sideways into—"

"FU DOG!"

"Sheesh, Gramps, I was gonna say 'stupidity,' but if that's the way you want it…"

"Ai ya!" He looked once more towards his grandson. "Fu Dog is right however. You seemed to have reverted back into some of your younger qualities. You're final encounter with the Huntsclan—" Jake stiffened. "—should've reasserted the values of focus."

To Fu's and Gramps' surprise, the young dragon didn't argue. Instead he flopped backwards onto the couch. The nice, inviting couch. "I know, G. And I'm sorry." He sat up again, and met the old man's eyes, with a great seriousness in his. "I know it's been a while since it happened, and I know everything was for the best, but it still doesn't feel like, you know? Rose and I should be celebrating the defeat of the Huntsclan, and she should be spitting on that demon's grave!" Fury burned in his eyes for a fraction of a moment, before a genuine smile graced his features. "And I probably got cocky without them running around. I mean, seriously, with those Huntsfreaks out of the way, who's left to give the AmDrag a good fight?"

Grandpa smiled, seeing the good nature of his grandson's confidence, rather than the overwhelming cockiness that had been rampant in those last three months. "I suppose if you feel rusty I could always arrange for some more training."

"On second thought, I am in tip-top shape and I would hate to mess up these fine features." Lao Shi only shook his head, but with a small smile playing on his lips.

"All right, young one, your mother is expecting you back soon. She said something about having to trip an alarm?" He looked to Jake for an explanation.

"Pfft, yeah, you know Dad! I gotta go before I get grounded." His face darkened slightly. "Actually, I think he's grounded me from just about everything there is to be grounded from." They laughed, the elder dragon's annoyance toward his son-in-law having morphed into amusement over the past few months.

"Goodnight then, young one. I'll see you Saturday morning for an early training session."

"You got it, I'll be—wait, no training tomorrow?" His eyes brightened with hopefulness.

His grandfather put a hand on his shoulder. "You made a mistake tonight, and you have decided to correct it. In the mean time, you must practice the lesson I have learned throughout my life." Jake waited. "To have fun at times, young dragon. Be with your friends."

"All, right!" Jake slapped his grandpa five, although Gramps wasn't ready for it. "Ooo, sorry Gramps. Do you need ice?" Gramps rubbed his wrist, grunting.

"No young one, I'm fine. Now go before you ruin my shop!" But the words were all in fun. With those words and a smile, Jake reverted to his dragon shape and sailed towards his home, and towards a few hours of rest.

A strange looked came over the old man as he watched his grandson soar away. He was so proud of his student's—his grandson's--accomplishments, but he knew something was amiss. Something that perhaps wouldn't be found.

"But then again, I suppose it could be," the old man whispered to the air. "A certain young lady has proven many a time that she loves you for the dragon you are, no matter the circumstances." His eyes became a mask of sorrow. "Even if she doesn't remember."

II.

"I'm tellin' ya, Trix! It ain't natural!" Spud wailed as the three best friends roamed the halls of Millard Filmore Middle School.

Jake sighed, facing his friends, ready to apologize. "I know I've been down lately, but after last night's little fiasco, I really feel like I'm back to my old self. Er, I guess my newer old self anyway. The self that's been through all the training and—"

"EH! We get ya," Trixie smirked as she playfully smacked his over-gelled hair. Jake smiled.

"Oh, yeah, and that's great, but I was actually talking about the mashed potatoes they served us at lunch today. I mean, they were yellow! What kind of potatoes are yellow?"

"The kind of potatoes with butter on them, Spud." The banter continued, and for the first time in months, Jake could really enjoy it. Oh, there had been moments here and there when he felt great, but Rose was his first love. He couldn't just walk away from that in a day.

"…besides, all the butter the school had was used in yesterday's food fight, remember bro?"

"Tell me about it," Trixie moaned. "That junk got all up in my hair!"

"But at least you looked all buttery sweet," Spud grinned like a moron. "Right, Jake? Uh, Jake?"

Jake was frozen, his gaze locked on a figure moving swiftly down the hall. "Guys, move it! Rotwood alert!" He dove into a trashcan, thankful that at least there wasn't any fish inside.

Ever since Rotwood learned the truth about Jake, the dragon-boy had to be on the lookout constantly at school. For the second time in his life, Jake was glad Rotwood was the principal and not an actual teacher. It would be horrible to sit with in his class, trying to avoid his smug gaze.

"Okay, Jake-y, coast is clear!" He peeked over the rim of the can at the sound of Trixie's voice. "You know, boy," she continued. "You've really gotta come up with a better plan."

"I know Trix, but the only other thing I can think of besides hiding is transferring schools." Trixie didn't get a chance to respond however, because Spud said enough for the both of them.

"Transfer? You? NOOO!" He threw himself around his friend's legs. "Don't go Jake! We love you!"

"Yo, Spud, the only place I'm going is to Lit. And you're cutting off the blood to my legs!" Spud released his legs with a sheepish grin. "Anyway, don't even sweat it. Just one more period and I am outta here for a little fire-practice!"

III.

"A-hem. Attention, hoodlums. You're teacher Mrs. Something-or-other has had a nervous breakdown. Again. So I have the extreme _misery_ of being your substitute."

"Awww, man!" Jake's head hit the desk. "Can't this school afford real subs?"

"Why, Mister Long, I suppose for you this would be, oh how do I say this…a real _drag_!" His smile could've lit up Wembley stadium. "Do you not think so? Hm?"

Jake scowled, but he backed down. "No, sir, it is an honor. How may I make this teaching experience less troublesome for you?" His words sounded well rehearsed, and they, in fact, were.

"Well, now that you mention it, I could use a shiny floor, a cleaner chalk board, and…Oooh, and my principal beret could use the fluffing!"

And, in his head, because he really didn't wanna get fried for saying it out loud, Jake screamed, _'Awwwwwww, MAN!'_

IV.

BRRRIIIIIINNNNGGG!

Jake, Trixie, Spud, and every other kid in the school sprinted towards the door with unrivaled passion. It was Thursday afternoon and the weekend was closing in! Boards in hands, the trio sprang down the steps, ready for a little early weekend fun.

"So, dude, are you ready to tear up the ramp?" Jake grinned from ear to ear, strapping on his helmet. "You bet! Gramps said I could take the day off. No training, no work, no scraping the walls—"

"You mean the chocolate-banana-grape pie stains are still on the walls?" Trixie shuddered and glared at Spud. "I still can't believe you put baking soda and vinegar in our desert dish for class."

"I told you, I thought that was our science project! I called it 'The Non-Molten Pie-Cano of Food Stuffs.' It was sweet!"

"Yeah, I know," Jake replied. "I had to clean it with my tongue!" They started to roll, heading for the parking lot. "But anyway, G promised I could relax. So let's go out skate Brad! Before, of course, we melt his wheels to the pavement."

"Uh, Jake-y, won't it be hard to melt a skateboard without burning the whole thing?" Jake smiled wickedly.

"Who said anything about his board?" Laughter bubbled up from the three, all of them knowing that Jake would never launch fireballs at Brad's car. Not in the daylight anyway.

"Alright, we better get rollin' then, if we wanna—hey!" Jake was cut short as he bumped into something small and air born. "Ug! A pixie-messenger? Gramps promised me a training-free afternoon!"

"Eh, what can you do, right?" The blue pixie dismissed. "Here's your message." Instead of Gramp's face, however, a rotund, green and red countenance appeared.

"Jake me boyo! You've got to get over to me shop as soon as you can!"

"Hey, it's that cool Leprechaun guy!" Spud brightened. "You know, I really miss my golden underwear…"

"SHH!" Trixie and Jake glared at Spud, before turning their attention back to the Pixie-gram.

"A package of mine has been stolen, which is rather unlucky in itself, but I got a look at the dirty thieves, and it was those two hooligans I've had a run-in with before!"

"Two hooligans?" Jake half-whispered to himself. "Aw, man, I hope he doesn't mean—"

"It was the two boyos from the Huntsclan Jake. They're back."

Spud was first to speak after the shock effect. "So does this mean no skatepark?"


	4. So We Meet Again

My apologies for letting this go for a little while! Sometimes I just need motivation, and boy did it come from an unlikely source. Here's the deal so far: I messed up slightly last chapter. I want this day in this chapter to be Thursday, not Friday. To quote Jake Long, "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" So I've edited Chapter 2 to account for that little correction. I'm sorry for the inconsistency. At least I did it on something small, right? crosses fingers

With that said, thanks again to all you readers who are bearing with me, and hopefully you'll like this installment. Plots are just starting to unveil themselves.

Disclaimer: I'll own my car after 71 more payments. But not ADLJ.

**So We Meet Again**

Jake hit record speeds on his way to the Leprechaun Import/Export Shop, and then wasted no time from there in bringing his green friend to Canal Street Electronics. Brocemas, of course, offered to pay for the transportation once they arrived. A stern look from Lao Shi ensured that none of the teens (especially Spud) took the offering.

"I'm confused, G," Jake paced around the small space. "88 and 89 were part of the Huntsclan. How'd they survive?"

"You don't remember young one? 88 and 89 chose the moment of Rose's wish to officially quit the Huntsclan."

"Yeah, dude. It was actually pretty funny, them scampering around like that. Heh heh."

"Yeah, but they could've done without stripping down to their striped boxers." Trixie shuddered. "Ew that was nasty."

"Huh. I guess I was focused on something else." Wistfulness crossed Jake's visage for a moment before quickly fleeing. "So, Brock, what did they steal?"

II.

"Aha!" 88 gloated. "Check it Dude: we got the package, and we did it without the Huntsman telling us what to do!" The bumbling duo was strolling casually through a back alley, which was surprisingly dark for the afternoon. He tossed the package over to 89, who clutched it triumphantly.

"I know! Who needs that cape-wearing hulk guy? We're the Huntschamps now!"

"Sad thing is, I can't even bring myself to call you freaks 'Huntschumps.' You just made it too easy."

"Ahh! Dragon!" The courageous fighters prepared to execute a…run of bravery, but a lithe, red dragon tail gripped them firmly by their ankles. The package dropped from 89's butter finger grasp, and Brocemas popped out from behind his protector just in time to snatch it.

"You boys ought to die of shame, stealing a poor, rich Leprechaun's laundry like that." Brocemas scolded.

"Laundry?" The two almost-thieves voiced in disbelief.

"What, you think I wear these same snazzy shoes everyday? And my skivvies were looking a little less green, if you know what I mean." The two Huntsboys turned a little green themselves before the little guy scampered off, throwing a "Thanks, me lad!" over his shoulder.

"Well, I thought that was a little squishy for an ancient talisman." 89 giggled sheepishly.

"You were going for some magical artifact and you ended up grabbing dirty _laundry_?" Jake laughed. "What, do you two chumps just grab whatever you see first and hope it's what you need?"

The two hunters shared a look. "Well, without the Huntsman around…" Jake shook his head.

"But what made you guys steal from Brocemas? How did you figure he had what you wanted?"

89: "Pfft. We got gold, an Aztec Skull, and a magic mirror thing from that shop. It was a good place to start."

"Are you sure you guys quit the clan, instead of being thrown out?" The "warriors" stuck their tongues out at Jake, who grinned and then growled. 88 and 89 shrunk back, still firmly in Jake's tail's grasp. "So, before I give you guys a little firepower, do you wanna tell me why you wanted the talisman?"

"Never!" cried 88. "You'll have to get that information out of cold, lifeless carcasses!"

"Yeah! Our cold, lifeless carcasses!"

"Sounds okay to me, except that's gonna have to be 'hot, lifeless carcasses.'" Jake inhaled deeply (bluffing all the way, of course), and as he was about to let loose, 88 screamed and 89 fainted.

"No, please!" 88 begged. "I have sensitive skin!"

Jake laughed in his head, but decided to keep the façade of strong, intimidating dragon. "Tell me what I want to know."

"We found a drawing of that talisman in the Huntsman's journal. We didn't have anything else to do, and we figured it would come in handy, now that we're the Huntsmasters!"

89 came around in time to chime in. "You bet ya! We make the rules!" Jake cocked an eyebrow.

"Masters of what clan?" The boys deflated.

"We're working on it," 89 grumbled, and then perked up. "Hey, if you wanna join, that would be totally—" 88 whooped him on his masked head.

"You can't recruit a _dragon! _We _slay_ dragons, remember?"

"It was just a thought."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Now I definitely see why you two weren't wiped out. You're no Huntsmen!"

88 puffed his chest. "Ha! We're realer than that traitor, Huntsgirl! She was all, 'No, Hunstmaster, I will slay that dragon,' and we were all, 'No way, lady, we see what game you're playing,' and she was all—" His companion joined in the laughter, and neither realized that every muscle within the dragon had tightened dangerously. A deadly growl rose within Jake's throat, as sanity and reason fled to the corners of his angered mind.

"—and then the Huntsman was all '88 and 89, you should take that traitor's place, cuz you are the greatest,' and we were all 'yeah, it's true,' and then—" It took 88 a minute to realize that they were speeding through the high sky, and another minute to realize that he and 89 were now no longer bound by the dragon's tail.

"88," 89 whispered urgently. "Did the dragon just let go of us in mid-air?" They stayed suspended for a millisecond as 88 answered, "Yes, I think he did."

"Oh." Was 89's response, followed by a joint:

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! HAVE MERCY!"

And off in the darkening sky, Jake chuckled evilly as he sped away towards his home. Yeah, he'd probably regret letting those crooks go in the morning, but with the drop he gave them, he doubted the two dorks would be causing any trouble for a few days. He sighed though, as his satisfaction receded.

"I still got your back, Rose."

III.

"I still got your back, Rose." And the visual faded. A heartless chuckle filled the room.

"A dragon and a slayer. It's so sappy it's pitiful." A figure rose from his plush chair, and faced his comrades. The visual resumed, this time, focusing on two bruised bodies in red and purple uniforms. "You see those buffoons there?" He pointed at the masked figures. "They are fools, but their whim or restarting the Huntsclan is intriguing." He turned to one of his minions. "Has the little creature been captured?"

The lackey nodded, edging away from his employer almost imperceptibly. "Yes, sir, we intercepted it before it reached Egypt and our guys are hauling it back here right now."

"Good. That is good. And what of charms for the incantation? And the item itself? Have you obtained them?"

The lead goblin smirked. "They've been ready since you alerted us to the activation of the Aztec Skulls." No sooner had he said that, however, did Herbie wish he had kept his yap shut. His boss' countenance darkened, shadows dancing sinisterly about his face.

"And yet nothing was done. I have kept a watch over those skulls through my spells for years, and yet when I bid them brought to me, I received nothing!" Herbie's lackeys winced, while the crime-boss himself remained calm. You didn't get to have as a good a reputation as his by flinching at every power-tripping employer that crossed your path.

"Maybe if your oh-so-special spells would've told us about the skulls before they were activated," Herbie groused. "Then we could've brought you back more than dust."

Surprisingly, the hirer didn't respond with force. He did something arguably worse. He laughed. "It is all well however. While the destruction of the Huntsclan is a minor setback, it would've needed to have occurred eventually. You're all very fortunate that the use of the talisman was needed all along; otherwise, your…employment…would be terminated. I believe this new challenge shall actually be quite…fun." No one else was having any fun, but they dared not show it in front of their superior. Not when this man aspired to rule over the entire world, and certainly not when this man had more than enough means to accomplish this goal.

Eli Panderas sat down, watching through his spy-glass as his soon-to-be subordinates peeled themselves off the ground. He had learned long ago that the most efficient means to an end was to pit two sides against one another. He let a malevolent chortle resonate through the stone chamber, unnerving his hired hands to a strong degree. All but one. The goblin crime boss narrowed his eyes; he knew he had to keep his senses sharp around the Dark Wizard, but he had taken on some tough clients in the past. Even the Dark Dragon had required his services, so Herb was confident in his ability to handle the shifty, the sleazy, and the scum.

Unfortunately, Panderas was of a much different breed. He was magical, he was maniacal, and he was merciless. No heart beat within his chest: instead, it was the black cavity he had lived with for years. His lips twisted unnaturally, as he allowed himself one final thought before retiring to bed. "It is my Destiny. And Destiny must always be fulfilled."


End file.
